All He Ever Had
by Rose G
Summary: Mickey and Meadows and the story of the last day they worked together - the day after Mickey was raped.
1. Chapter 1

All He Ever Had

Rose G

Disclaimer – Not mine, nor am I making money from the use of the characters.

A/ N – I wrote this quite a while ago, but due to computer problems it is only just being uploaded. Also, any inaccuracies are due to me having seen these episodes only once and that over a year ago. _Italics _are thoughts.

'I want to make a statement, sir.' Mickey's voice trembled, almost broke on the last word. _I don't want to. Have to. Must._

Meadows glanced around the empty CID office and lowered as voice, regardless. He leant forward over Mickey's shoulder, trying to comfort the younger man. 'Are you sure? It's up to you, entirely, you know. I'm not going to make you press charges.'

'Everyone already knows, guv. What good would it do for 'em to know that I was too afraid to charge him?'

'They wouldn't think any the less of you. If you're sure ... I can have some-one from the support group here in half an hour to take a statement. That okay, is it?'

Mickey's face crumpled as though he had been hit. It was an expression that matched his battered visage. 'Guv... guv...' That was a whisper, barely audible, more mouthing than words.

'What, Mickey?'

'I don't wanna talk to some bloke I've never met before. I ain't going to talk to them. Can't I talk to you? Please, guv, can't you take a statement?' Mickey screwed his neck round to face Meadows, using his eyes to rely his appeal because he couldn't vocalise what he needed to say.

'They're trained for this. They know what to say.'

'Aren't you? _Please, _guv. I'm sorry if it's a problem...'

Meadows sighed. 'Of course it isn't. If you're sure that you want me to do it, I will. Do you want anyone else in on it?' _You idiot Mickey, they can help you. What do you think that I can do for you? Why me?_

'I trust you.' Mickey forced himself to make eye contact with the DCI, choking down the terror that rose as his eyes met those of another man for the first time since the rape, since Delaney's eyes had bored into his. 'I trust you.' He had no other reason, no justification except that bland statement of how he felt. 'I don't want them to know what happened... but I trust you.' _I'd trust you with my life._

The simple words touched Meadows deeply and he had to fight the urge to take Mickey into his arms and hold the younger man until the pain in his eyes had gone. Instead, he simply nodded. 'Alright. My office?' An interview would be too much, force Mickey to be too close and without the option to move away.

Mickey followed his mentor closely, unwilling to be alone even in his own station. He hurried as best as he could, hoping without any real hope that Meadows would slow down. The violation of his body had left him aching all over, and his inability to sleep the night before had left his legs trembling. The taut fitness of a football player that had marked him before had left him forever; he felt every one of his thirty years. As he walked, his eyes stung with hot tears of pain that he refused to let fall, even if they would wash away the feeling of the blood and Delaney's kisses that had tricked down his face the day before. For a minute, a too brief minute as the pair walked, he felt calm. The DCI's silent presence reassured him.

Then Meadows was ushering him into the office; into the room that couldn't have been more different from the warehouse where he had lain, but that was as soul – destroying in its own way. Mickey had never even noticed the recording system before; today, it froze his heart.


	2. Chapter 2

All He Ever Had

Rose G

'Sit down, Mickey.' The Yorkshire man shut the door, then slid into his accustomed seat behind the desk. The harsh light and the closed blinds created an unreal atmosphere, made both men seem like ghosts in the twilight. 'I should have asked earlier; can I get you a tea or something?'

Mickey's stomach roiled at the thought; Meadows caught his expression and acknowledged it. _How amazing…how much he knows about me even when I don't speak to him. But then, how much Delaney took from me without ever speaking to me. _Mickey let his eyes fall shut and breathed a silent prayer for strength that went unanswered.

'Alright, Mickey. You know I'm going to have to ask you some very personal questions, don't you? It's likely that you'll find recalling the incident almost as upsetting as it was to experience it. We can stop…'

Mickey interrupted the too-familiar spiel that he had often delivered to victims. Once, he'd thought those words were well meaning, comforting. Today, it struck him as the very height of insensitiveness. _How dare he tell me what I might feel? How the fuck does he know?_ He didn't realise that Meadows had never taken a statement from a rape victim; that Meadows was unaware of what to do for the best. _He must know…He must do._

'Guv, please. You leave this – I won't be able to do it. Just, jus' get it over with. Please?'

The DCI took a deep breath and reached out one hand to start the tape recorder. 'Statement given by DC Mickey Webb, 10.10.03.' _For me only. I wish I could let you know they'll never hear this; I won't let them hear it, Mickey._

'I just want to ask you some general questions before we talk about what happened. It was yesterday that Delaney raped you. Have you seen a doctor since then?'

'No. I took some painkillers last night, is all.' _And then I drunk until I threw up, so they didn't help._ _'_It hurt so bad; I had to.' Mickey was angry at himself for that, had always hated taking the chance of drugs slowing his reactions. _But the pain slowed me more. _

'Would you mind seeing a doctor later today?' An unspoken plea hovered on the end of that sentence.

'There's nothing wrong with me.' _Another man had sex with me…touched me. They can't cure that…_

'Just for confirmation, to back up the statement. Would you mind?' That held the ring of command, a tone that Mickey was incapable of resisting when he was well and certainly couldn't now.

He picked up the cricket ball from the desk, moving it from one hand to another and staring intently at what he was doing. 'Not on my own.' _Not even for you, guv'nor. I can't do that._

'You don't have to be on your own. I'll come, if that helps. Or Romani would.'

_No. Not her, never anyone else. _

'Now, a couple more things that the jury will want to know. Understand, I'm not interested in the answers, not as your superior officer. So anything you say… I won't say anything. The jury are interested; I couldn't care less.'

A wan effort in smiling in response. 'Yes.' Bile was rising in Mickey's throat.

'Okay. Are you in a relationship at the moment?'

'Hah!' The bitter, explosive laugh answered that question. 'Not for months, a year now. Since Kate – left.' _Died. You coward. She died; can't you say that? I can't cope; I miss her so much. God, not so much._

'What about one-night stands or anything?'

'I thought you knew me better than that, Guv.'

'Sorry. I have to ask, is all. Have you ever had a sexual relationship with another man?'

Mickey knew there were tears in his eyes, threatening to fall and an icy coldness in his soul. 'Never…Except…my dad. He used to force me…touch me…But I'm straight, me.'

Meadows reached one hand over to Mickey, tried to clasp the younger man's hand but Mickey flinched away. 'I'm sorry, so sorry. I know about your dad, but I had to ask. I didn't mean…It was just in case Delaney has – anything. And so that he can't get out of this by saying the marks were caused by some-one else you were sleeping with.'

_I know you didn't. You wouldn't hurt me like they do._

'Do you still want to do this, Mickey?'

Mickey nodded his face so pale now that his soft blue eyes and the contusions on his brow looked livid. 'Maybe it'll help get…Delan- him.' _I can't say his name!_ Panic seared his mind.

'Alright. Tell me what happened yesterday. Everything.'

'I went to that warehouse after I got off. Wanted to see if he was there.'

'Even when I'd told everyone to be careful going after him?'

'I thought you only meant the girls. I didn't…didn't think he'd … And I thought I could get him. Almost did.' A shadow of a rebellious grin crossed his face and was gone before Meadows was sure of its appearance.

_You would, wouldn't you? You'll get yourself killed one day. Maybe that's what Delaney wanted to do to you and you were just lucky…No, if being lucky means ending up like you, I think I'd rather be cursed._ 'So you arrived at the warehouse when? Around midday? You drove there?'

A sudden flash of pathetic humour. 'Nah, proceeding at slightly above walking pace and costing myself an arm and a leg in the process. Yeah – driving.'

'Where did you park?'

'Just outside the yard. I walked over – I was looking for him. Only he saw me first, when I was walking through the main entrance…I think I knew then…when I saw his face…'

'Knew what?'

_Shit, did I just say that aloud? _'That he was going to hurt me.' His voice was a whisper.

'Why didn't you radio or call for help?'

'Because – because I still thought I could catch him. And I didn't want him to know I was there; if I'd just imagined him seeing me, like. A fool's hope, really. Like everything else in my life.'

'What happened then?' Meadows made a conscious effort to lighten his voice, aware that this was getting harder and harder for Mickey; that only courage kept the younger man from breaking down.

'I carried on into the building. I lost sight of him for a while, so I shut the doors up.'

'Why?'

_Why? Because Deakin was right when he told me that I think with my plonker instead of my brains. _'I didn't want him to escape, and I thought, if I shut it up like I belonged there, he might ignore me for long enough.'

Meadows went to speak, but Mickey carried on, slowly and reflectively. Colour removed the shroud of pain from his face, replacing it with blind dread and embarrassment. He recounted how Delaney had silently rounded a corner behind him, hit him and grabbed his handcuffs before Mickey could regain his balance, then how Delaney had overpowered him and cuffed him, in a way that would be over-dramatised by the word 'fight.'

'You're strong enough, aren't you, Mickey? Was something wrong?'

Mickey scuffed one of his shoes against the dusty carpet. 'I've got a bad arm – sprained it playing football a few weeks ago. Couldn't say anything because it would have got back to Skip, and he wouldn't have let me play this Saturday.' _And now I can't fucking play. Can't ever get changed in front of them. Lost that an' all._

Meadows looked sympathetic; remembered pulling similar stunts in his time. 'The doc can look at that later, as well. What then?'

'I walked. How can you argue with some-one who's got you cuffed? And he had a knife.'

With barely contained fury, Meadows asked 'Was he hurting you?'

'No, not very much. Enough – enough to make you do as he said.' _It hurt, it hurt, but if I tell him that – how can I? I'm so weak…_

'It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, Mickey. He'll get assault as well as rape.' He exhaled heavily. 'Promise. He'll pay.' _Not enough, never enough; I'd have to kill him for that. Twice._

Mickey nodded, rubbing at his wrist. _Odd, I didn't notice this 'til now and it bloody hurts. _Ashamed, he run through the rest of that slow dead march, the knowledge that Delaney was armed, was stronger and fitter than him not counting for anything. _I failed – I gambled, and it didn't come off, so now I have to pay for it. My fault – it wouldn't have happened, else. All my fault…_


	3. Chapter 3

All He Ever Had 3

Meadows realised that the interview had pulled up, and he switched the tape recorder off, heedless of the proper rules for taking statements. He wouldn't, couldn't subject Mickey to the experience of seeing his halting words being written down.

Mickey gave him a look that would have been curious if all his curiosity hadn't been taken away. 'Guv?'

'I just wanted you to have a break. We've been here' – a quick look at his watch – 'nearly an hour and you're knackered. Anything you say while I've got that off is completely off record. I mean, I'm not putting everything on that tape down, but there's a few more things I wanted to ask you.'

'Yes?'_ How much more? Please, no more…I asked him that. Please…_

'How are you feeling now? Mentally?'

'Mentally?' He pursed his lips. 'Tired, I guess. So tired. An' ashamed – ever so ashamed. Hating myself. I'm not scared though.' _No, I'm terrified. _'I'm glad…' _I can tell 'bout it all. _And that was more than he'd ever be able to say to Meadows.

'Physically?' _What's he got to be glad for? Me listening to him? I'd do that for anyone, not just him._

'It hurts where, where…Still hurts.' Mickey clamped his jaws shut for a moment, then shook his head mutely. _I can't say it, guv. Can't._

'I'm sorry, Mickey. I said you should have got some-one who knew what to say to take your statement – I can't say anything to help you. I'm sorry, sorry.' _More than I can say._

Mickey swallowed hard, let the moment of silence lengthen, half-listening to the chatter and bustle of CID in the general office. One of the men – Phil Hunter? – was sitting on Mickey's desk, telling some story with the accompaniment of hand gestures and laughter. _Yesterday morning, I could have laughed with them. _'Guv?'

The Yorkshire man looked up from his morose perusal of a blank page that was easier to look at then Mickey's face. 'Yes?'

'Can I get something to eat now? I mean, before you take the rest of the statement?' Delaying was the only thing Mickey could think of doing then; he knew that he wouldn't be able to eat, but he didn't feel he could talk, either.

'Course. What do you want?'

Mickey vaguely waved his left hand. 'Anything…I ain't eaten since then…'

Meadows rose and left the office, causing the ribald laughter in CID to fall silent and touching his hand to Mickey's shoulder as he walked past. Mickey heard the door close with some relief but the glee he normally would have felt at being left alone in some-one's office with no interruption for at least ten minutes, didn't surface. _In the past, I would've loved to be alone here, just to look at everything on his desk. Now…am I ever going to wonder about anything other than where he is again? _

He forced himself into an approximation of what he normally would have done, rising to glance at the photographs arranged to face Meadows. Several of the DCI receiving awards, two of his family, a team line up with a cup, and one picture that froze his heart. Scrawled in Meadows' handwriting was 'If leaders believe, then followers trust.' The photograph was one he'd never seen, but he recognised it easily – himself and Meadows with a cuffed suspect from the Bratianniamania case. The case where he had almost died to save Meadows.

_What the bloody hell does he mean by that? I mean…_Mickey only just managed to replace the picture and sit down before Meadows entered with a tray. _I do trust him, yeah. Does he mean that all that strength and confidence is only an act? Is he as weak as me, really?_

'Here, Mickey. Got you some sandwiches and crisps. And these.' He tossed a cigarette packet to Mickey. 'Saw you smoking one of Smiffy's yesterday. I don't like 'em, but if they help, then smoke them. Okay?'

'Yeah, thanks.' Mickey fumbled one out and lit up, inhaling the warm smoke that might kill him and stop all the pain. 'Do you want to start again, now?'

'No. Let me eat this.' Meadows indicated his dinner, the smell of which was making Mickey feel ill. 'You need a rest, anyway. No hurry, is there?'

'You've got work to do.'

'You're part of that. You're the victim of a crime; an awful crime. I can take any amount of time over this – and so can you, Mickey. Bravery can only take you so far. You need to slow down.'

'Yes, guv.' Mickey relit his cigarette and watched dispassionately as uniform brought a drunk in. 'Guv, can I ask you something?'

'What?' Meadows spoke through a mouthful of pie casing.

'Do you – do you believe that there's any sort of justice or order to any of this? I mean in this world, as well as the next.'

Meadows stalled for time. 'You're the Christian. You tell me.'

Again, the colour drained from Mickey's face. 'I dunno. I used to think so. I mean, I tried so hard to live good. I did try. I did. And Kate, and me Mum, they didn't ought to have died like they did. An' then…me, what happened to me…Did I deserve that? I tried…'

'You were unlucky, Mickey, that's all. You can't say that anyone deserves what happened to you, can you?'

'I must have done, else it wouldn't have happened to me.' Mickey inhaled deeply, then coughed on the smoke. 'Don't you think so?'

'No, I don't.' Meadows realised that Mickey was questioning his religious beliefs for the first time, and was afraid for him. Faith had been the one thing that Mickey had clung to, when all else had been taken away. _What is he left with, without that? Nothing…_

'Why me, then, guv? Why me?'

Meadows could almost see the last vestiges of Mickey's faith evaporating. 'You just happened to be there. No more reason than that – it would have happened to any one of us who tried to catch him.' _I know why I never believed in a God – in anything that could let this happen to Mickey. _

'I killed Chandler. Maybe it's like, evening it all out, or something.'

'Chandler shot himself. You never pulled that trigger, or aimed that barrel at his head, did you?' _We did…We both killed him, me and Mickey…_

'But I drove him to it. I didn't leave him any other option – I killed a man!' Mickey's voice rose to an anguished wail. 'If this makes it fair…'

'Mickey, I worked with you for Chandler. And nothings happened to me.'

'No, nothing happened to you. Your wife kicked you out and Debbie dumped you and now you're reduced to having it off with a prostitute who won't give up the game for you. Nothing at all!' He regretted the words even as he spoke them, his voice loud enough now to carry to the general office.

'Mickey…' Meadows choked down a rising tide of fury caused by the younger man's words. 'Mickey, this isn't about what happened to me. You're the victim, aren't you? Not me, for God's sake.'

He knew he'd hit a nerve when he attempted to met Mickey's eyes, and the DC looked away. 'I don't believe in God anymore, guv.' He chewed on his lower lip for a minute, and repeated the denial of one of the central tenants of his life so far. 'I don't believe in God.'


	4. Chapter 4

All He Ever Had 4

Rose G

Suddenly, they were back in interview mode, the DCI not uncaring but no longer showing a friend's concern that had marked him minutes earlier. _Can I call him a friend? Really? I mean, I wouldn't tell my friends about this, but he wants to know…Jack?_ The whir of the tape recorder disturbed his musings.

'Where had you got to? Delaney had walked you into the main bit of the warehouse. Was that were Smithy found you?'

'Yeah.' A quiet, almost below hearing, admission. 'There.'

'Then what?'

'He's a big bastard, he is. Much taller than me. Heavier. He tripped me against that table. Couldn't get up, I couldn't. My arms…' Mickey pulled his shirt sleeves back, showing the red rind burnt by the cuffs. 'He tightened them.' He fumbled at the cigarette packet, was pathetically grateful when Meadows took it from his hands and passed him once. _A friend. Of course, my friend. How could I ever doubt that, when he let me come here? Shouldn't have._

Meadows asked the next question silently, afraid that he would vomit if he opened his mouth. _And then what, Mickey? What did he do to you? _The hollow emptiness in Mickey's eyes horrified him.

Mickey let his eyes fall shut for a second, and it was only with a great effort of will that he was able to speak. The words came as a hollow monologue, as Mickey tried to forget that they had any meaning for him, anything at all to do with him. He wanted to be reciting a play script that told of this happening to some-one else.

'It was dark there. Very dark, like you only get in those places. No windows, right in the middle of the building. An' all old machines and gear like it used to be a factory or something. Lots of dust in the air, every time we moved. He tasted of it.' Mickey raised a hand to his lips as if to brush away the feeling of Delaney's kisses, and it was only then that Meadows realised how torn and swollen his lips were. _Like a bride on honey moon – all his innocence gone. _

'He switched a light on. One of them lights that are really bright, but only over a little bit. I was sort of outside it. He wasn't – I could see him really well. He didn't mind that I saw him. He didn't care that I knew him.' _Oh, Guv…_Mickey thought half seriously about standing and leaving, fleeing, and was kept down by the pain that shot through his body as he went to stand. _Too tired to stand…too tired to live…_

As surely as if Delaney had been standing over him again, Mickey was a prisoner here, chained by the weakness of his body and the ghosts in his mind. Somehow, he appreciated that telling Meadows would help and yet the pain of telling him was too much, too much…

'You okay? We're doing alright.' Mickey flinched away from the gentle words, withdrawing into his private hell until Meadows believed that he could see the flames of his sprit flicker, until he believed that the man in front of him was choosing to die, dying because life had given him too much pain to deal with.

'After that…he just stood there, looking. Looking down at me. Couldn't move, he'd cuffed my arms behind me. And that knife…'

'What about the knife? What was he doing with it?'

'No-nothing. He h-held it.' Mickey chewed on the words, almost weeping again. _No. Can't. Not in front of him. Nearly did yesterday. _The already hazy memory of crouching on the warm grass by his mother's grave with the soft Yorkshire voice cajoling him into lowering his guard, helped. 'He had it in his right hand all the time. Even, even when…while he was…'

'While he what?' _I know. Just say that I got it wrong. Please…I won't ask for anything else…_

'You know, Guv. Smithy told you, I said…'

_No, I didn't get it wrong, did I? Oh, Mickey, you poor bastard, I'd have taken that for you if I could have. Wouldn't I? _'I see, Mickey. Carry on.'

'He didn't speak very much. Asked me what I was doing…I'll never be able to listen to that accent without remembering…Said I was looking for some-one, a friend. B-but he knew I was a copper…told me he knew. Seen me before. He knew.

'He – he took his shirt off then. I guessed then – he'd raped those girls, hadn't he? Why should I be any different to them? Why shouldn't he rape me? Could see him thinking, thinking, about what he was going to do to me…I asked him, I said 'Are you going to rape me?' and he said…didn't say anything. Just nodded. Nodded…And I begged.' _I was laying against that table, looking at his silhouette and begging…begging…crying…the cuffs were so cold.…_

His voice broke, but he still couldn't cry, hadn't been able to cry by the grave yesterday with his head buried in his friend's shoulder. 'Oh, Jack. I begged him not to hurt me…That was worst. Worse than _it _was…I knew what he was going to do, an' I was asking him not to and he wouldn't stop…Oh, God…' He tried to cry, to ease the tightness in his chest, but could only manage a racking gasp for breath.

_Jack, help me…Don't you care? Jack, I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Blame Delan – _him –_ not me. I'm sorry._ Fighting for breath, he pulled his eyes up to meet Meadows, aware that he was loosing everything that he'd spent the past years winning – friendship, respect, trust. _Sorry._ The apology could have been to Meadows or himself. An apology for his own existence. He doubled over, struggling to breathe now. His eyes hurt. The silent scream of apology and denial rung in his ears.

Meadows reached across the desk, grasped Mickey's arm again in a gesture that was as near to love as he could show to another man. Both men were silent until Mickey regained his breath and relit his cigarette with a shaking hand. He cupped it in his fingers, glad of the warmth of the flame although it couldn't touch the cold that had settled onto his soul.

'Sorry.' This time Mickey was able to say the word aloud; carried on talking. 'I hated it. Hated it so much – so scared of him. Stupid, I know. De – deserved it.' Another near sob was forced from him, the world whirling around him and the firm grasp on his arm was his only bridge to the world of the sane. He coughed, choking.

'Here.' Layers of meaning shaded Meadows' voice as he passed Mickey a tea mug and watched him drink – concern, sadness, affection. 'Nearly there, now.'_ Then you'll get a medical examination, and we'll have to type up your statement, and you'll have to read it and sign it, and then you'll have to go to court, and the journalists will want to hear about 'Met. Can't protect it's male officers from sexual assault, so what chance have young girls got?' And you know all that, so why am I lying to you? I can't do it all with you – but I would. God help me Mickey, I would do anything I could for you, but you won't let me, will you? _

'Ta.' He run one hand through sweat-lank hair, pushing it back from his eyes. 'After he took his shirt off, he knelt down by me. I was on the floor by then. I thought that was it, then. Took some cord an' tied it. Round my legs…didn' want me kicking 'im. Struggled…I struggled but the knife…'

'What was he doing with the knife?'

''Gainst my knee ligaments. Drew blood – I didn't want to end up in a wheelchair!' His voice was almost a scream on the last word, drenched with fear at the idea of being trapped. 'Took my trainers off – couldn't kick him. I screamed at him 'no'. Screamed and screamed. Smithy said … said I spewed blood after he found me…Screamed my throat that raw.'

Mickey could feel a chasm opening between his pain soaked world and Meadows'; a depth caused by fear and inability to understand, a gap bridged partly by the Dalesman's heart. 'Brave of you, Mickey.' The words were soft, pitched so low that Mickey was unsure whether he really heard them.

'He pulled my shirt and jacket up. He stripped off, totally. He undid my belt, pulled it all down, what I was wearing.'

Meadows heard the change in Mickey's narrative, the curious choice of words that he was using to distance himself from the events he was talking about.

Mickey's blue eyes bored holes in the desk. He couldn't look at Meadows any longer, couldn't look at anything other than the memory of Delaney's face above his as their lips met in an obscene parody of a kiss. 'And then he – he raped me, guv. Just like that – he raped me. Shut my eyes, tried not to look – made it worse. Still hurt, let me think too much. Looked at him – he was laughing…took hours…'

'How many times?'

'Three – three, I think. Dunno. More, no. Hurt so bad. Didn't matter .…All one, all one together. Didn't speak. He did. Saying I was a waster to keep myself to women. Just talk…talk like you'd give to a girl you was … with. Called me, called me … 'Pretty.' Took so long. His hands…' Mickey shivered.

'Hate being touched, anyway. You – you know. Know that. Like he did, his hands all over me. Taking. Touching. An' then' – Mickey sighed, a long exhalation of breath – 'he got off me. Left me 'lone. Alone…' He reached one hand up and unclasped the silver crucifix chain, dropping it onto the desk and pushing it away from him. 'Like He did. Like everyone did. All I ever had was me – no-one else, to look after me, ever. He's taken that from me now.'

Meadows remembered what Smithy had whispered to him yesterday, how Mickey had ignored his approach until Smithy had touched his arm, and then simply whispered 'Please, please, no more' without any emotion in his voice. _God help you, Mickey, if only you'd let Him. It wasn't his fault anymore than it was yours…Never your fault, Mickey. I know I don't believe, but you…I wish you could now. Why are you so stubborn? I wish…I wish I could take it all from you, stop you hurting. I'd take all that…_

'Then he got dressed again. Cut some of the cord around my legs. Didn't take the cuffs off. I couldn' move, an' way. He pulled my jeans up, said he preferred people who were warm, that he'd enjoy taking them down again. Just lay there, I did. And he went away, shut doors behind him. The light was still on, it wasn't too bad. When Smithy came, I thought it was him.' _What if Smithy hadn't cared – if he'd left me? He could have raped me. He had my life there. Maybe if he'd left me there, he would have come back and hurt me again. Killed me. That would have been best…Why did he want to save me, what was he thinking? Not worth saving me._

'What did Smithy do?'

'He spoke to me. Can't mistake – mistake his accent. Asked me if I was alright, cut the cords off. And the cuffs. Told him to go away – he did. I got dressed, like, cleaned up most of the blood and everything.'

'Delaney cut you?'

Mickey's eyes fastened onto Meadows' until the older man felt uncomfortable and shifted uneasily. 'I never slept with a man since, since…And Delaney' – he winced at the name – 'was so brutal. So much blood, you know. He _hurt _me, guv.' He paused. _Like fire or something…Oh…_He almost cried out with the remembrance of the pain inside him, pain that hadn't gone yet but only been blanked out as he talked.

'Then I went out to see Smithy; he brought me back here. You know the rest, don't you?'

'Yes.' A soft voice. 'Yes, I know, Mickey. Do you still want to press charges?'

'If – if I can, guv. Only my word though, 'gainst his.'

'Not if you go to the FME, or someone, have medical evidence. And Smithy saw you, that's evidence. Your clothes – have you still got them?'

'In my locker, in a bag. Everything I was wearing. Some of the cords as well. Not touched them since. But…I hit him, guv…I can't press charges with that.'

Meadows switched the tape recorder off. 'I didn't see you hit him. Nothing happened except that you arrested him. You're safe.' He meant that in more than one way.

Mickey looked at him, willing himself to believe that he was safe. The steady blue gaze reassured him, told him that there was one thing in this world as dependable and trustworthy – more so – than the God who had abandoned him; the friendship of the Yorkshireman, and even if that was all that he had left, it would be enough to make life bearable.

'Are you okay now?'

_No. _'I guess so.' Unsteadily, he rose to his feet.

Meadows rose and placed one arm around Mickey's shoulder, ignoring his tension and pulling him into an embrace. He felt Mickey resist for a minute, then the strength seemed to leave the younger man and he clutched at Meadows, pushing his body close to the DCI's. He could feel Mickey shaking, trying to cry, yet no tears left the stinging blue eyes. Silence reigned, and it was all Meadows could do not to weep on behalf of the man he had once known. _I'll cry tonight…Alone, again…Forever.…_


End file.
